


Mind the Gap

by Amaryllis_Namikaze



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Attempt at Humor, Because he's mostly a cinnamon roll, Clearly an attempt, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Sassy Katsuki Yuuri, Time Travel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, but only sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaryllis_Namikaze/pseuds/Amaryllis_Namikaze
Summary: "Let's see what's going on for now and talk later. I'm not sure if we really are in the past," Yuuri typed."Either that or we are dreaming the same thing," Victor replied."Ha ha.""Hey, that was a genuine suggestion, zolotse. I'm offended....I loved your snarky 'ha ha', though. Keep going."Or:In which Yuuri wakes up in the past, Victor has no chill and still is extra af despite being (supposedly) mentally older, and no one is prepared to what's coming from the... couple? Wait, what.





	1. 2015

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first YoI fanfic. The summary is kinda shitty, I'm sorry. I'll fix it later. Not sure how long this fic will be or if it's 100% serious? Half angsty, half Victuuri fluff with a pinch of Victor's dorkiness? We'll see what comes from this idea.
> 
> I JUMPED ON THE TIME-TRAVEL BANDWAGON. I'M NOT EVEN SORRY. 
> 
> On with the story.

            Yuuri awoke to a completely dark room. Nothing unusual on that - he was used to waking up at slightest sign of lighting, making blackness necessary every time he went to bed.

            The strange, uncomfortable feeling making itself home on his stomach was the distinct lack of a breathing body besides his. Victor and he had been sharing the same bed for six years and counting. He knew his habits like they were his own - and his husband would never get up before ten in a Sunday. Every other day, Victor was _annoying_ in the mornings, cheerful and whistling. Sundays were for lazy sleep ins.

            It was Sunday. The clock on his bedside table read 8:17am in glaring red lights. No signs of his husband.

            Yuuri sighed. It was too early to find Victor machinating some kind of mischievous action. He loved his husband to death, but the man was an eternal, giant Russian child.

            _Wait._

            The clock on his bedside table... wasn't his?

            Yuuri sat up in a second, wondering at the lack of stiff muscles. He had fallen more than stayed up yesterday on the ice. Actually, this entire week had been one the worst days he had on ice. He was going to skate his last World Championship - his last competitive skate _ever_ \- in a couple of weeks and the familiar grip of anxiety ha been snaking its way around his torso and neck.

_(He was too old and his knees sometimes buckled under his weight and should he really try if he was going to lose anyway?)_

            There were no aching muscles. There was an unfamiliar clock. There was no rope around his neck, strangling him to an anxious blob of a skater. His body felt light and... springy?

            Yuuri stood up, stumbling slightly when he realized the bed he had been sleeping on was twin-sized instead of the ridiculously big king-sized bed Victor had insisted on buying a couple of years ago.

            Where was his phone? Where was the light switch? He fumbled around, trying to find any of these things, wincing when the sound of something falling down made itself known. Great.

            Hoping he hadn't broken his phone - _again_ , Victor wouldn't let him hear the end of it - he crouched down and gathered the device in his hands. With furrowed brows, he pressed the sole button on the front and squinted his eyes at the sudden brightness. Why was everything blurry? Oh, he forgot to put his glasses on. Yuuri picked them up from the not-his bedside table and put them of his face. It sat uncomfortably unfamiliar on the bridge of his nose.

            With the dim light coming from the phone, Yuuri realized that his phone also was a _not-his_ phone.

            What in the actual hell...?

            The lock screen was a photo of Vicchan sleeping peacefully on his doggy bed. Yuuri felt his heart clench painfully. Vicchan had been gone for over half a decade and he still hadn't gotten over the death of his childhood dog. The fact that Makkachin had been gone for a couple of years made remembering his first pet even worse.

            (Victor still cried into his pillow sometimes when he thought Yuuri was deeply asleep and couldn't hear him.)

            Yuuri tapped the password, relieved when it proved to be the same he always used. His _not-phone_ had the same password as his phone. Whatever that meant. The clock by then read 8:25am, which made perfect sense as he was confused and moving as slow as a sloth in this unfamiliar environment.

            The date, however, made his head feel light all of sudden.

            It couldn't possibly be true. There was no way the phone read July 31st, 2015 in tiny, traitorous letter.

            (Because it would mean that everything until now had been _a dream?_ A figment of his anxious mind?

            It meant that Victor and his gentle hands and his loving gaze and his deep voice and everything they'd been through together weren't real.

            It meant being alone and no body lying beside his at night.

            Had it all been cooked up by his mind? Was he that cruel to himself?)

            Yuuri felt like his heart was trying to escape from his ribcage thought his throat. His eyes were watering _and now wasn't the time to burst into tears, Yuuri!_ He took a deep breath like Victor - _his husband?_ \- always advised him to do.

            "Yuuri?" He heard someone ask from the other side of the door of the _not-his_ bedroom.

            Yuuri stilled.

            "Phichit?" He tried tentatively, because it _did_ sound like his best friend.  

            He heard a laugh, "Who else? Get ready or you'll be late for your class. We both know Anatomy Applied in Movement is a necessary devil to complete your Dance Major. No escaping that now."

            Yuuri listened as his best friend's footsteps became a muffled sound before disappearing completely.

            He decided to go over everything he knew until then.

            Yuuri was in a dark room and he wasn't sure if he wanted to flip the light switch on to check his surroundings.

            The year on his phone read 2015.

            Phichit was somewhere on the other side of the door, urging to him to hurry up and go to class - one of his Dance Major's class.

            Somehow, listing all this nonsense made Yuuri feel calmer. His insides were still clenched and Victor was nowhere to be seen, but he could breathe without feelings like drowning.

            Yuuri searched for the light switch with the dim light of his cell phone, flipping it on. Three posters of his husband _(please)_ were covering the walls. His favorites from his collection at home. This was familiar. This room was his dorm room from years ago, the one from the apartment he used to share with Phichit. It wasn't Hatsetsu or St. Petersburg, but Detroit would have to do for now. Until he made sense of things, at least.

            He wasn't going crazy.

            (He wasn't going to sink into despair.

            _He was not._ )

            "Phichit?" Yuuri hesitantly reached for the door handle, calling his friend. He could hear the Thai whistling from where he remembered was the kitchenette. He tried again, louder this time. "Phichit?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Can you tell Celestino that I'm not going to the rink today?"

            His friend turned from the stove, not caring about burning his scrambled eggs or not. Phichit was frowning, looking confused _(and young and whole and he wouldn't need a knee replacement surgery for another four years)_.

            "You feeling sick or something?"

            "Or something," Yuuri muttered, not trusting himself in saying nothing else. He turned on his heels, determined to sink through his mattress and never emerge again.

            "Call me if it gets any worse, okay? This time for real, don't ignore me like last time!" His Thai friend chided, sounding as stern as his chirp voice could get.

            Yuuri nodded, not looking at Phichit anymore.

            He was glad he hadn't woken up alone somewhere - a hotel room for one of his assignments or something like that - but Phichit would never be Victor. His Thai knew some of his deepest secrets - most of them embarrassing enough to be taken to the grave - but he would never be able to substitute his husband's comforting presence.

            Yuuri breathed once again, trying to control his feelings before anxiety got the best of him. This body didn't take medication for anxiety attacks yet (yet?) and was prone to panic.

            He paused.

            _Yet?_

Yuuri fumbled with his phone. Maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe he wasn't going crazy. Maybe his Victor obsession hadn't reached ridiculously high levels that made him create an improbable future.

            Maybe he just wasn't _in_ the future.

            Tapping the contact list icon, Yuuri halted. It was obviously less filled than it would be in the near future. His entire Russian family's numbers were missing as well as the others skaters he had befriended once he let himself speak up. Most of all, Victor's number wasn't there, though he hadn't expected it to be if this _was_ the past.

            Yuuri racked his brain, trying to remember the exact numbers of his husband's phone.  Victor hadn't changed it for the last decade, claiming that he was too forgetful to change it every time he bought a new phone.

            With trembling fingers, he tapped the first message he could think of when the number was remembered.

_Hi._

            Yuuri face-palmed a couple of seconds after the message was sent. He was so stupid. Who the hell says _Hi?_ and why did he think Victor would answer an unknown number so readily? Why did he even think he wasn't alone in this mess?

            A bubble popped up.

**Hello?**

            Yuuri bit his lower lip. What could he say to give away the fact that he was, well, his husband's husband while not making it obvious _who_ he was - Katsuki Yuuri, confused man extraordinaire - just in case Victor wasn't in the past with him?

Yuuri shot up in his bed.

_Did you give food to Ricchin before we left?_

Ricchin was their one-year-old poodle. He wasn't Vicchan or Makkachin, but he was one of the most spoiled and loved dogs in this planet. It was the first dog Victor and he chose together. His name was a pun on the last syllable of Yuuri's name and the end of Makkachin's name - not to mention the fact that probably no other dog was called Ricchin.

            A bubble showed that the person on the other side was typing. It disappeared and reappeared a few times before the person decided to send the message.

            **... Yuuri?**

            Relief came over him so quickly that tears sprung to his eyes. Victor was here.

            (Victor was _here.)_

_Yes._

**YUURI! OH MY GOD!** (つಥ▽ಥ)つ **WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHY AREN'T YOU HERE IN ST. PETERSBURG? WHERE DID YOU GO? AND WHY IS MAKKACHIN BLESS HIS LITTLE HEART HERE WITH ME?**

            Yuuri couldn't help it - he started to giggle until it wasn't funny anymore and he started to cry.

_Did you do anything beside cry into Makkachin's fur?_

**NO! IM SO HAPPY!**

**WHERE ARE YOU THO** (╥ω╥)

            Yuuri sighed.

_Why are you typing with caps lock on?_

            Before he could continue, Victor replied.

**Srry.**

_It's fine. Did you look at the date? It says 2015 on my phone._

**Wait, what?**

**Uh. Ur right.**

Yuuri thought about what to say, but there was no guideline to what to do in this situation, so he just typed what he came to his mind.

 _Let's see the what's going on for now and talk later. I'm not sure if we_ really _are in the past._

**Either that or we r dreaming the same thing.**

_Ha ha._

**Hey, that was a genuine suggestion, zolotse. Im offended.**

**I love your snarky HA HA tho. Keep going.**

(ノ’з `) ノ

Yuuri sighed, unable to keep a smile from coming over his face. All the fear he had felt upon waking up alone in a dark, unfamiliar room had melted into affectionate exasperation. His husband knew how to distract him from the worse thoughts popping up uninvited in his head.

            **WAIIIIIT. What do u mean 'see whats going on'? I WANNA SEE U!**

**ZOLOTSE!**

Yuuri realized that the message had been sent six minutes ago, while he'd been lost in thoughts.

_VITYA, for the sake of Yakov's sanity, don't come to Detroit._

**Too late. Already bought tickets.**

**Wait.**

**Detroit?**

**I BOUGHT TICKETS TO JAPAN?!w**

(-‸ლ)

**Yuuuuri, do you think the airlines will reimburse me? I already bought another ticket for Detroit, tho.**

**♡ \ (¯ ▽ ¯) / ♡**  
  
---  
  
**Don't worry!**

_That's not what I'm worried about._


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor arrives in Detroit. Phichit is in for a surprise. Yuuri is just about done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I disappeared for a few days. Kinda my usual thing. I'm sorry. I'm one of THOSE authors. Yeah, the ones that never update or don't have anything scheduled or planned ahead or whatever. To be honest, I hadn't expected so many kudos and reviews, OHMYGOD, GUYS, YOU'RE AMAZING! I was shook hahahaha 
> 
> I'll be hones. I have no idea where I'm taking this story. It's the crackiest story I've ever written. For real. And it's not even that funny. When there's angst, I can write 3K words without thinking. Pure fluff and happiness makes me slow down. Let's see where this is headed and have fun, I guess.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, guys, they were the reason I decided to keep this silly thing on going. Now, onward with the chapter!

            Victor stared forlornly at the screen of his phone. He had no photos of his Yuuri saved in this old mobile phone, a fact that he planned to rectify as soon as possible. He had even resorted to looking through his husband's Instagram, only to be reminded of how inactive his account used to be before took the reins and basically made the Japanese post a handful of photos at least once a month. Their fans couldn't be more grateful.

            "This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 8796B to Detroit. We are now inviting those passengers with small children or requiring special assistance to begin  boarding at this time. Please, have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin soon. Thank you."

            Victor looked up, his entire face brightening with the possibility of seeing Yuuri within the next 24 hours.

            Oh. Maybe he should warn Yakov before boarding, though? Hm. Victor shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time he disappeared for a couple of days. His coach would be too busy scolding Yuri or Mila to notice him missing. The Russian was sure he could send his coach a message when he landed in Detroit.

            Speaking of Detroit-

            "Yuuri, here I come!" He celebrated, attracting some confused side-glances which he paid no mind. Victor was too happy to care.

            Makkachin, who had been quietly taking a nap beside his owner, barked at the name of his other parent, looking around excitedly. Victor smiled at his dog companion, bending down to pet his soft fur.

            "Soon, Makka. Soon."

* * *

 

         Yuuri rubbed between his brows, trying to get rid of the headache he'd been feelings the last couple of hours. He sighed. A part of his mind couldn't process the fact that he _really_ was in the past. For real.

            "Yuuri, are you feeling ok?" A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts.

            Yuuri turned around, nodding his head to Phichit's question, "Yes, thanks for asking."

            His best friend frowned, still looking worried, but willing to let it go.

            "If you say so. Anyway, Ciao Ciao is asking for you. Your break is over, apparently," Phichit teased with a smile.

            "Right. My break. Thanks."

            Yuuri skated over to his coach - _what a weird notion, wasn't it_ \- while trying to focus on the now. He'd see Victor eventually and sort everything out. The most worrying thing at the moment was the fact that he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what his theme had been this tragic season. It truly had been a horrible year for him, which he'd rather forget about.

            (And he had. Forgotten, that is. Until something decided to drag him back.)

            ( _Why?)_

            "Yuuri, Phichit told me you weren't feeling well these last couple of days?" Celestino inquired as soon as the Japanese skated over.

            Yuuri hesitated, "Huh, yeah. Just a little... under the weather, I guess."

            His coach seemed to accept this excuse - not that he'd think it was an excuse. Yuuri was a perfect student to have, all dedication and hard work  and attentiveness.

            (Except for this little monster called anxiety, of course. Yuuri and it were kind of a package deal. Either you had both or none.)

            "... short program is fine, I've selected the music already," Celestino was saying and Yuuri should probably have been paying attention. "Your free skate music, on the other hand, remains undecided. You sure you don't wanna try finding something? We still have a few weeks before having to turn in your theme for this season to the ISU."

            Yuuri thought it over for a moment. On one hand, he could ask Katie if she wanted to compose a piece for him, just as she had done the first time around. However, would she even be able to compose something that wasn't the raw version of Yuri on Ice? Maybe it was just the way things would go.

            On another hand, why couldn't he choose something else? Katie's composition or Celestino's future selection weren't his only options. He could pick one music by himself. It's what he had done the last - next? - five years. Victor helped sometimes, but his husband would shoot him this puppy-eyed look every time Yuuri as much mentioned not wanting to choose a piece of music.

            "I'll search for something tonight, coach, and tell you more tomorrow," he decided on saying.

            Celestino looked rightfully surprised. Yuuri couldn't blame him. It was one of the few times he'd taken the initiative to do something - skating related or not. Most of the time, Phichit was responsible for all the craziness revolving around his college life.

            "That's what I like to hear," Celestino said, patting his shoulder a few times.

            Yuuri winced. The man had hands of a bear - giant and heavy. He had forgotten how much these encouraging pats hurt. Then again, Victor wasn't much better with his tendency to hug Yuuri out of nowhere, whining about whatever came to his mind at the time.

             "Well, it's Monday evening. You know what this means. Get a little more warm again and we'll start your quad training."

            Yuuri nodded. He skated a few more laps around the rink, getting the warmth in his legs once again. What should he do? Act as if the only quad he was able to do was the toe-loop? Perhaps succeed in doing the quad salchow? It was around this time he had managed it for the first time, wasn't it? He hadn't gotten it down enough to put it in his routines that year, though.

            "Yuuri, c'mon! I sent Phichit home already and it's your turn!" Celestino boomed from the other side of the rink, which was getting emptier each minute past.

            Yuuri was suddenly reminded of Celestino's training schedule. Victor's was random, always a surprise - his husband hated routine and it showed in every action. Celestino, however, had a schedule written down for each skater of his. Yuuri could train step sequences just fine during peak hours at the rink, but jumps were reserved for the less hectic hours. It had to do with nerves, which Yuuri hadn't exactly mastered at the time.

            (Victor hated routine, sure, but he had sneaky plans and ideas. He made Yuuri train his jumps around people - not all the time, but at times. If only to lose this anxiety that overcame his student/husband every time he had to execute jumps around others. It worked. And it didn't.

            Victor learnt that anxiety couldn't be controlled like this. It was Yuuri's little monster and acted out when it wanted to.)

            "Let's see a triple toe and then a quad. If it's still consistent enough, we'll keep it!"

            "Yes!" He answered.

* * *

 

            Yuuri was breathing heavily, leaning over his knees. Celestino, by his side, was overjoyed.

            "Yuuri, if you keep it up, we'll be able to add the quad salchow to your holster this year. Beautiful landing. I knew that you were training it with Phichit, but neither of you mentioned how well it was going," his coach chided. Celestino didn't mind when his more experienced skaters practiced jumps with each other, as long as they weren't completely alone.

            "It wasn't - _isn't_ going that well, coach," Yuuri said between gulps of water. "Today just..."

            He stopped, because old Yuuri wasn't the time to argue semantics with his coach. The jump had clearly gone well and whatever was in the past didn't matter to Celestino.

            "Well, good job today, Yuuri. I'll see you tomorrow morning, ok? Rest up."

            He nodded in thanks and goodbye, watching as his coach started to give attention to the last skater of the day, a Junior girl whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him. It sounded cruel to say, but in five to six years she'd probably given up and her name and talent were long lost memories.

            His phone was vibrating madly beside his bag. Picking up, Yuuri almost choked on his water bottle when he saw 12 missed calls and about 27 messages from Phichit.

**Yuuri, why is Victor FREAKING Nikiforov knocking on our door and asking for you?**

**No escape this time.**

**I'm serious.**

**Ok, so call me when you're finished with training.**

**YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE FINISHED, MISTER.**

**Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri**

**WTF**

**SHOULD I LET HIM IN?**

**... he's still outside.**

            And the messages went on and on, describing how Phichit proceeded in front of this entire, ridiculous situation. Yuuri sighed to himself. How had he forgotten about his husband's flight? He should have remembered it, if only for the fact that Victor had been too silent the last couple of days.

He pondered over replying or not to his best friend. If he sounded too calm, Phichit would immediately become suspicious. Yuuri decided to send a message to his husband, instead.

_Vitya, I don't know what you told Phichit, but if he asks, say that we met through some social media or something._

**Don't worry, zolotse. I told him that we met through Instagram and have been exchanging messages for about four months now.**

**Am I brilliant or not?**

**(´ ω** **`** **♡** **)** **YUUURI!**

_Yes, you are, Vitya._

Thank, God. Victor was taking this - mostly - in a serious manner. Whatever had brought them to the past didn't seem keen on taking them back to the future.

            (Which kind of meant that they shouldn't fuck this up. Just in case.)

            (Which kind of meant that Victor should refrain from showing his most ridiculous, extra tendencies. The world wasn't ready for them.)

**Yuuuri, praise me more!**

**(*/ω** **＼** **)**  
  
---  
  
Yuuri sighed. His phone vibrated for the thirteenth time.

* * *

 

            "Ok, so you're telling me that _you_ and Yuuri met through Instagram."

            "Yes."

            "Even though Yuuri, like, never, _ever_ uses his."

            "Uh-huh."

            "And you aren't even friends or follow each others."

            "Yep."

            "But you're still, somehow, crazily enough, intimate friends enough to travel half the world for a social visit?"

            "That's exactly what I'm telling you. I don't know why you sound so incredulous, really."

            "Yeah, you can't fathom _why_."

            Victor smiled at Phichit, enjoying the younger face of the Thai. He hadn't been this radiant ever since his retirement four years or so from now. Well, _radiant_ wasn't the right words as his husband's best friend only seemed extremely suspicious of the circumstances.

            Despite Yurio's endless rants, Victor wasn't completely oblivious. Hey, he was smart, alright. He thought of every possibility, just like his Yuuri did. He simply didn't care.

            This time, though, Victor knew his husband would strangle him to death if he fucked up too much. He could step on a few eggshells and come to Detroit, but anymore than that was harder to explain.

            They'd have to be careful and wait before announcing their new - well, old - relationship to the world.

            (Not too much, though. Maybe until the Grand Prix Final? That should be enough, right? He couldn't possibly be at the same place as Yuuri and not be able to kiss and hug his husband. It was bad enough that Yuuri couldn't just gather his things and go to Russia. Wait, was that-)

            "Phichit, I received your message-"

            "YUURI!" Victor threw himself at his husband, who stumbled a few steps back. Oops.

            "V-Victor!"

            Makkachin was barking like mad at Yuuri. Smart dog. She knew who Yuuri was, because Victor made sure to spend the last day lecturing her about her other dad.

            "Will someone tell me what's _really_ going on here?" Phichit asked, exasperated.

            Victor heard Yuuri stuttering a few words out, but he didn't pay them any mind. He was too busy enjoying the body in his arms and rubbing his nose against his husband's neck to care. Makkachin sat herself against Yuuri's legs.

            "You're _just_ friends, huh?" He vaguely heard Phichit question, part teasingly part in incredulity.

            "Yuuri and I are destined to be together," Victor declared, finally deciding to give his two cents to this conversation.

            (Victor could almost feel how strong Yuuri's desire to strangle him was. Aww, how he loved when his husband got all angry and sassy and - uh-oh. Bad idea. He should've stayed quiet.)

            "S-something like that," Yuuri mumbled, finally saying something on the matter.

            Phichit dramatically gasped. Makkachin barked in agreement. Victor continued to hug the life out of his husband.

            Yuuri was just about ready to bury himself on the ground of his living room. Why him, oh, God.

            A phone started beeping. Quite suddenly, Victor remembered how he had told himself he'd message Yakov about his current location after his flight landed.

            ... Oops?

            "Vitya, tell me, for God's sake, that you told Yakov where you were headed?"

            "Zolotse, I told Yakov where I was headed."

            A sigh. Yuuri rubbed a hand against his face a few times.

            "You know what? I don't care. Tell him, don't tell him. You're ok and I'm glad," he said, messing his hair.

            Victor positively started glowing, "Yuuri!"

            "Talk about whipped," Phichit stage-whispered somewhere in the room.

            The Japanese dropped to his knees, starting to pet the poodle on the ground.

            "How are you, girl? Huh, Makka?" He said into Makkachin's fur and if a few tears were dropped, it was nobody's business.

            Victor could feel his eyes tearing up. He had cried into Makkachin's fur about seven times the last days. This dog should be eternal.

            "Sooo," Phichit innocently said. "Is someone gonna tell me what's going on? I need to live vicariously through Yuuri. Especially if it involves Victor Nikiforov. I swear."

            "Phichit!"

            "What? It's the truth. You have the most interesting secrets, Yuuri. For example, Victor, did you know that Yuuri learnt pol-"

            "Don't you dare," the Japanese threatened.

            "Ooh, I think somebody's ready to tell me what's _really_ going on."

            Victor watched as his husband and his best friend bickered in their teasing manner for a another minute. It felt nice, in a way, to be back. The future was great and terrible. It brought surprises and tears and moments of indescribable happiness. But being in the past reminded Victor of why he loved the future so much, despite its hardships.

            (Phichit retired. Yurio burnt out earlier than expected. Chris was heartbroken still. Georgi got married. Toshiya had cancer. Makkachin died. Leo and Guang-Hong got together. Isabella and JJ eventually had a beautiful daughter. Yuuri won the Olympics.

            Some things were great. Some were painful.

            It wasn't perfect. But it was theirs. And it would still be theirs.

            Victor wasn't about to let Yuuri go simply because they were in the past or wherever the hell they were.

            If anything, this was a chance. A chance to spend a few more years with his husband in their life together. Instead of seventy years together - or however many life chose to give them -, they'd have seventy-six, and that was great.)

            "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE TOGETHER _TOGETHER?!"_

Oh, yeah. Phichit was still around and confused. Victor smiled, excited. His husband was here with him.

            "Yuuri!" He jumped on Yuuri one more time, snaking his arms around his husband's slender neck.

            "OH, GOD, STOP HUGGING EACH OTHER FOR A MOMENT AND EXPLAIN SHIT!... Wait, wait, let me take a photo!"

            "Phichit, no!"

            "Phichit, yes!"

            Victor laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY FOR MAKKACHIN, THO! At least he's not dead-dead, huh? 
> 
> Share your opinion, guys! Tell me if it's too trashy or at least passable. Someday I'll write a more serious YoI fanfic, I swear.


End file.
